Chapter 1
The church was too damn quiet tonight.
Monticello always slowed to a crawl after sundown, but the silence inside now felt different somehow. It was like someone had stretched a sheet over the world and smothered all the sound until it didn’t stand a chance to breathe again.
I sat in the confessional with the little wooden door cracked open, letting stale incense drift in. The booth creaked with every exhale. It was old and worn. Hell, it was probably held together by prayer and stubbornness, which was no different than the bitch that kept it standing…me.
Feeling fidgety, I needed to move around. Opening the confessional door wider, it creaked.
I needed time to press down the goddamn memories scratching at the back of my brain. The demons in my head were getting louder, but regretting my past…that was a worse plan.
I had to look to my future.
“Move on,” I growled to myself, leaning forward to grab the shit I had scattered around the confessional.
Miranda had given me a new love note.
That poor soul was one of the reasons I stayed a priest, even if I didn’t truly feel like one. Helping her was not a bad thing. Miranda needed support. I just didn’t think I would ever be the one to give her that.
I started moving down the aisle and counting the Bibles, my boots thudding against the worn wooden floor as I walked.
I’d gotten used to keeping myself company with my own thoughts, albeit my fucked up mind was not exactly the bedtime stories that made the eerie vibes of my church bearable.
The smell of incense was muted now, and that ancient lingering scent of wet wood and ‘the something’ the priests never named surrounded the church. Everyone sensed it the minute you walked in. Maybe it was the spirits, or maybe it was just mold.
It was late…too late for anyone to come in, which was good.
I needed the quiet.
Tonight, my demons were behaving like cowards, hiding in the corners of my skull, lulled by the pouring rain outside.
My suffocating God was all I had left. My collar sat tight against my throat like it knew the truth it covered, and that feeling was choking me.
The anniversary of my coming to this town was just a few minutes away. One strike of the clock would signify another nail in my coffin of sins.
Ten years, and that alley was still under my skin like all the ink I couldn’t wash off.
I rubbed the ridge of a scar on my chest out of habit, the knife’s searing burn as potent as it had been that night.
What did you expect when you left her in a pool of blood? Saving her, or just becoming a bigger villain in her story?
Fuck me, ten years, and I still felt it in my bones. It was like that blood of that night had soaked into every inch of marrow inside my body.
The pews were empty, silent, and stared at me with the judgment I deserved.
I had a habit of talking to them sometimes, swearing under my breath, just to remind them I wasn’t holy.
“I was a fraud…God, you fucking son of a bitch do you enjoy taunting me every year that I survive your gavel of judgment…” I muttered.
No one here to hear it but the ghosts in the walls, and they judged me, too.
I paused at the altar, the white candle flickering, sending shadows dancing across the polished marble. I leaned over, gripping the candle’s stand, trying to slow my pulse and the laughing demons in my head.
I focused on the clock on the back wall.
Click.
Breathe Jedidiah.
Click.
That was ten years ago.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I couldn’t change the past.
But I chose her future.
“I saved her,” I said aloud.
You killed him.
“I protected an innocent,” I chanted again, rubbing my eyes.
You ran.
I shoved the thoughts down like I always did, but they clawed back each time, hungrier and more cruel.
This was what I deserved.
The confessional waited in the corner like a lost lover, knowing I’d come back to the comfort of the dark, quiet peace inside.
I should go home, back to my house by the church, and away from the silent screams.
Instead, like the masochist I was, I stepped back inside, closing the door with a soft click. The familiar darkness swallowed me whole, suffocating yet protective of my little box of lies.
Go home, Jedidiah. It’s just you and your ghosts.
The storm outside roared louder against the roof, rattling the windows as if to remind me the outside world was no safer than my little box. At least in my church, the silence was a damn gift I could treasure.
Lightning lit the sanctuary, sharp and blinding, making me second-guess challenging the downpour to move to go home. The shadows continued their wave along the floorboards, and I blinked against them.
God, every detail was written in the rain, every creak of my church sounded like a gunshot in the night, every flicker of candlelight lit my body like the blaze of the knife. My soul memorized it all, ready to react…ready to survive.
Always ready to run again.
The booth creaked under me as I shifted my unsteady weight. My knuckles dug into the edge of the seat, the scars screaming from old fights and mistakes.
I swallowed hard, reminding myself I was alone.
And then, the door clicked open, and there was an arrival of a parishioner.
I froze.
Fuck…no one was supposed to come this late.
Who?
But there it was again, the softest, almost polite sound of tapping of heels on the floor of the church echoed with every step. The sound was confident. It almost felt ritualistic.
Is it…them?
Shit…no.
Calm the fuck down, Jedidiah Franklin. Just stay…normal, well, your brand of normal, anyway.
I leaned back slightly, forcing my hands to stay on my knees in the booth. I didn’t make a sound, not even a twitch. I wouldn’t leave a single indication that my chest was hammering like a drum in a marching band.
Maybe they’d leave if I stayed quiet, prayed to God, then made their way back out without a priest to hold confession.
A floral scent with the hint of rain drifted into the booth before I could hear her speak. I latched onto the scent.
No running this time, Jed. You have a job to do.
Her voice finally slid through the lattice, a soft yet careful melody.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Ah, just a soul seeking forgiveness, not a demon.
I sighed, visibly relaxing, and smiled through the small window of the lattice.
“Good evening, my child. You are safe to confide in me with your sins.”
“It has been…a very long time,” she continued. I felt her minty breath brushing through the screen. “I must confess before I am buried with the demons.”
That hit a little too close to home.
“Take your time,” I said, my voice steady, or at least I hoped it sounded steady.
She laughed, another soft, sweet sound. The husky tone to her vocals made her appear teasing, though I couldn’t tell if that was the intention. “Oh, Father. Time is one of the demons. They play with me. My will and resolve. Time is my hell.”
Hell.
This woman seemed off somehow, an innocence to her words, but her tone didn’t match.
She was an enigma.
Her presence behind the scenes shifted. I felt it like a weight pressing closer to me, like she was leaning into the lattice just slightly, though the screen kept us apart. I cleared my throat, her perfume wrapping around me.
“What burdens you?” I kept my voice low and careful, no hint of the shaking pulse in my throat.
She inhaled, long and deliberate, with another sultry laugh that didn’t belong in this holy space.
“A memory,” she said. “One I’ve carried for ten years.”
No. Fuck. Ten years? Why tonight, Lord? Why bring a woman who needs the solace from her past?
My stomach knotted. Every instinct in me screamed to turn away, while the alley flashed in my mind like a strobe light. The sweat, the screams, the blood, the panic, the weight of him on her…then the pain, the awful cries, and the…silence.
No, I didn’t want to go back.
Stay calm. Stay calm.
Don’t breathe too loud, you dumb bastard. Help this soul. Be the priest you promised.
“I have to confess a sin,” she said in a hazy lull. “Something I cannot undo, no matter how far I think I’ve run.”
How far I’ve run…
My hands gripped the seat harder, making a slight sound.
“I—I’m listening,” I said, fighting to keep my outer mask of a priest calm.
She paused, and in that silence, I could feel her thinking. I could sense every small shift of her body and every tiny movement of her dark hair, even the way she inhaled and exhaled.
“I have killed someone.”